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When riding public buses, there are several social conventions we all try to follow, three of which stand out above the rest.

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She brings joy to the world. She probably likes cookies.

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The morning is a time reserved for quiet reflection on how you wish you were in bed and the 8 hours of hell you’re about to endure.

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Here’s your antidote to all those sad stories about bystanders not helping strangers.

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Meaning: go to work in order to obtain USD currency, as manifested abstractly via bi-weekly direct deposits into my checking account—cash I never actually touch or feel, but only see deplete when I pay my mortgage, groceries, taxes, and occasional hookers. And come back blue. Return home every day from work chronically depressed because I am stuck in this mid-30s life defined by societal expectations, financial fear, acute loneliness, spiritual resignation, and emotional denial.